


Open a Blind Eye

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm Sherlock Holmes and I'm smarter than you. Except I'm bored because being a genius means I've done everything before and there isn't much to do.<br/>But John Watson you look interesting so come share a flat with me and stop me from being bored.</p><p>If I owned any of these characters, I wouldn't be sat here writing fic I'd be solving crimes, so do you really think I own any of this except the plot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open a Blind Eye

These people are so insufferable. They traipse around like complete morons and they seem so content that way, as if they don't care about the majesty of the universe and what there is to discover, only bothering when it comes to exams as if it doesn't matter. Can't they understand the potential the human brain has? Honestly it seems that there is nobody alike me, willing to try and expand their knowledge. I know I don't need to expand it that much, it's already superior to everyone else's but there is always more; even for a genius like myself.

They're also so blind, not literally, but I'm beginning to doubt that. Is it not obvious to even their normal minds that I'm busy? I'm right in the middle of mentally organising my notes on how long it takes for cigarettes to burn through flesh and weather varying the cigarette and/or flesh differs the result. I need extreme concentration and they are talking, I can't go to my mind palace with all this terrible conversation! Now they are talking to me, great now I'm going to have to wait and I have matters of importance like correcting the news this evening I must do. Plans must be seen to unless they are over taken by something else or greater importance. Frankly, I doubt they are discussing anything of purpose let alone importance.

Oh god, after specifically asking seven times in the past 48 days, they've called me the disgusting and honestly downright embarrassing nick name of: Sherly. I know my name may not be suited for an 18 year old in the 21st century but they could respect it. At least Mycroft doesn't have any terrible shortening, but then again he didn't have a group of imbicilces following him around at every available moment around to shorten it. They either call me Sherly or mate and I'm not sure of which I despise more. 'Mate'? Do they think we're friends? Friends are a waste of time, socialising is in general a waste of time unless it is worthwhile and rewarding. Reminding me that I must talk to Molly so her mother can let me into the morgue. Yes it's manipulative but there had been a rather exciting murder and the police have got it wrong. How they can ignore the fact that there was a loose thread in her skirt's hem line I don't know, they are rather incapable sometimes.

They're saying good bye, finally. Right, socialisation that's room 402 in the palace and its right at the end of the main corridor because of the sound proofing. It must be sound proofed so I don't have to hear the patheticness or torments of people who just don't understand. Now, goodbyes from peasants. Nod and a slight wave within three seconds. Completed successfully, all recipients are happy so there won't be consequences of more socialisation or pretending that I care about their feelings.

The bell. Ah. That went a while ago, result I'm seven minutes late for psychology, consequence: None as Ms Fowner is having an affair on her husband with the also married Art History teacher. Neither of their spouses is aware of their unfaithfulness or homosexuality. This makes her between 15 and 18 mints late for every 3rd period lesson because they are having sex in the pottery room at lunch every working day except Thursday.

It's not as if I'm going to be gaining much anyway, the lesson is simply repetition from my studies that I practiced back in 2003 when I had a broken leg. But it was productive, even the broken limb was worth it because of the information received from it. This is a dull, basic and childish, why should I be forced into being told to think about the human brain when I know it all (Room 6801) already? It's a waste of my time and I shouldn't have to suffer this.

Somebody new has walked in, let’s see. Trainee doctor, left handed, just moved out of his parents’ house and is having trouble affording his current flats rent on his own so is subsequently looking for a flatmate. He's here because his professor has said he needs to work on his doctor patient relationships so he is here. He's only 19 but his jumper gives off the air of an old man, which is a shame because he is quite handsome if you base him on what society thinks is handsomeness. Everyone else is whispering the questions to the answers I've just figured out. 72% of the class are laughing at his jumper and the rest and just wondering who he is and what the purpose of his presence is. It's obvious you idiots. How can you not see it?

"Right this is John Watson; he's a trainee doctor down at St Bartholomew’s." Of course he is. "And he is here to help you with your revision for your final exam which is Monday morning at 9:30, so be prepared and don't be late!" That's sweet; he's going to help us. Well he'll help everyone else but I assume he's been told about me so probability says he'll ignore my presence. Maybe he'll do some good, who knows Steve might get over 30? He won't though because he's too busy sleeping with his best friend then in the morning will blame there activity on the alcohol not the fact that they have 'feelings' for each other.

Oh god he's coming over here.  
"Why are you not revising?" So he wasn't told about me, obviously shown by the stupid question and confused facial expression.  
"I don't need to revise; it's a pointless activity along with this class. Mrs Fowner may I leave yet?"  
"No Sherlock you may not. Just like every time you ask." She didn't even direct her attention to me when speaking to me, how rude.  
"Hadn't you better, just in case? I took this same exam last year and it was pretty tough." A look of sympathy came across his face; he thinks I'm a small minded idiot who doesn't care.  
"Unlike everyone else here, I'm a genius. I don't need to waste time repeating facts to remember things. My mind palace contains everything I need for this test and I will answer every question correctly except I will lose two marks due to the marker not being able to tell a C from an E. Besides, if the test was pretty tough for you, are you sure you're going to be an adequate doctor?"  
"Excuse me?" From what I can see his hearing is perfectly fine, the surrounding noise is low and I'm speaking loud enough for him to hear. The only other option is that he is in disbelief from my previous statement and usually people ask for a repetition when this occurs. By process of elimination this is the reason.  
"You heard what I said; my repeating it would be useless." The bell is going; I have no other lessons today signifying that I can go home. "I'm going now. Goodbye."  
"Who are you?"  
"I'm Sherlock Holmes and by the way because you are having trouble with affording your flat I propose a flat share. I have my eye on a flat on Baker Street. If we both contribute we can easily afford it. I play the violin and occasionally I might not talk for days, I doubt you will have a problem even so, you need this opportunity and I need to escape my mother’s constant complaints of the placements of my experiments."  
"Okay?"  
"Yes okay, here is my number, text me and I'll arrange it. Again, goodbye John Watson."

Time is such a petty thing, there is too much of it and now I’m bored. Mycroft is insisting I begin packing but I can’t until the intestine melts, it wouldn’t be a fair experiment if I changed its surroundings and the results would be inadequate and usless. John’s texted me.

Hi, It’s John Watson. Is this Sherlock Holmes?  
Hi John, can we meet up at the flat tomorrow. 221b Baker st, 3pm. SH  
Okay?   
Good. See you then John Watson. SH  
I hope John doesn’t get in the way of my experiments, if so he’ll just have to get rid of some of his things. He won’t mind if I move in now, it’s not like he’s going to say no to the flatshare. 

I'm still bored. All my things are in the flat and now I'm just waiting for Mummy to stop being so sentimental over my leaving. I don't understand. All I'm doing is moving out, is it supposed to be important. I just don't want people to touch my things and John seems very organised so he won't.  
Now she's crying. This is peculiar, crying over such a little thing like moving out of your parents house. I must test it in a different situation. Where's my notepad? 

Crying.  
Subject:  
Ah, the subject will be John, he's perfect. Practically a stranger so indifferent towards me so far and he is very average so that will be constistant.  
Test: Pain, (emotional and physical), and extreme happiness.

That will do.   
"Sherlock don't forget your skull."  
"I won't forget it Mycroft, I just need to bubble wrap it and I can't remember where it is!"  
"Cubord with my umbrellas. And don't touch them, they're expensive."  
"That was one time!"  
"One time too many Sherlock." He is so irritating. "The sellatape and scissors are in the left hand draw beside the sink." So that's where they are.  
"I knew that!" 

John looks confused, does he not like the flat? It's in a prime spot and it's a good size. Ah he thinks it will be expensive, I told him it wouldn't. Did I? Maybe. Oh well. Not important.

"It'll be a bit expensive with it being a prime spot and such a large flat won't it?"   
"No. The land lady owes me. I helped the police with her husbands death sentence."  
"You stopped it?"  
"No, I ensured it."  
He looks confused again. Mrs Hudson insisted he did it, she was right and I made the police pay attention. I have to do that a lot. It's fun except it's slightly annoying when they are just blind. Or in Anderson's case just plain stupid. His face makes my brain hurt. 

"Right, well this place is lovely."  
"Yes I thought so, the atmosphere is perfect for the toes."  
"What?"  
"Nothing that involves you John Watson."  
"Okay, well we just need to move all this junk out then we can move in." That's my things he's referring to. They're not junk they're important things I need. I'm not sure why I need some of them yet but I'm sure there purpose will reveal itself when the time comes.  
"That's my things, but I could tidy up?" I think I have to, we are supposed to be sharing. But that chair is mine I won't share that. And the couch is mine when I'm bored or sad. It's comfy.  
I'm not so bored any more. John is interesting and I like interesting things. Like my skull, which I also need to unwrap. I'll do that now.  
"Is that a skull?"  
"Yes, was a friend of mine, I have to say we are much closer now he doesn't reply." He looks scared and confused again. He thinks I killed him. "He got mudered by a Morrocan sowrdsman when he accidentally picked up the wrong bag. Turns out the bag contained a priceless sword that was forged in the 18th century."  
I want to go to bed now. The experiment begins tomorrow with physical pain, it's the easyest to accomplish. I hope I'm not bored tomorrow. I hate being bored.   
"Erm goodnight?"   
"Goodnight to you too John Watson."  
"Why are you sleeping now? It's only 4 in the afternoon."  
"Because I want to sleep now. Now goodnight.”


End file.
